


A Walk Down the Aisle

by Threepaws



Series: A Walk in the Park [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Celebrations, F/M, Fluff, Lemony goodness, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7341370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threepaws/pseuds/Threepaws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wedding time has finally arrived for Sandor and Sansa in the AWitP series! A one shot full of fluffy lemony goodness awaits all who read! You have been warned! ;-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Walk Down the Aisle

**Author's Note:**

> I gift this one shot to my bestest friend who knows and puts up with my love of GoT but doesn’t know of my writing hobby. On Saturday 2nd July 2016 she will be walking down the aisle herself and I wish her a wonderful day full of love, happiness and laughter.
> 
> I cannot wait to be part of her special day and wedding fever has well and truly bitten me, so AO3 I have been inspired and therefore inflicted this one shot upon you! I hope you all enjoy…

Warm spring sunlight filters down through the canopy of blood red leaves clinging to the stark white branches of the heart tree, warming his scalp through his sleek raven black hair. Sandor has turned his back on the few rows of benches that have been brought into the Godswood that have begun to fill and his slate grey eyes stare into the sightless carved ones of the heart tree, which drip red sap, like tears.

He never even dreamed that he would step foot into a Godswood or Sept even to join his hands with a woman, yet here he is, soon to pledge his life, his shield and his love to the most beautiful woman in existence. His Sansa.

Staring up into the canopy of red leaves, the little flutterings of coral and pastel blue fabric catch his eye, crisscrossing backwards over the benches and the aisle towards the wrought iron gate where their guests are currently filing there way through. Soft murmurings and laughter reach his ears and he lets out a deep breath. It won’t be long now.

His broad frame is encased in a well-fitted dark navy suit jacket, matching waistcoat, crisp white shirt that seems to be solely designed to restrict his breathing and a lemon yellow tie. Tiny white bell like flowers he has no name for or interest in poke out of his buttonhole.

He stares down into the dark brown eyes of his best man which gaze back at him piercing him with a look that never misses a trick.

“Am alright pal, just want to get this over and done with, y’know? You best have not lost those buggering rings.”

He rasps in low growl.

His best man huffs under his breath, rolls his eyes and cocks his head, showing a glint of silver shining from the clip of his collar. His ebon black coat gleams at a fine shine and Stranger has never looked so sharp. His best man may be no man, but he’s the best of truest friend he’s got and he’d choose no other to be at his side today.

A pink lolling tongue falls out of Stranger’s mouth and then there is a nudge against his knee, which makes Sandor grin. Looking up and turning to look over his shoulder he sees the benches are almost full. Bronn and Drogo have taken up the roll of ushering people into their seats and as he gazes over the rows he spots the trio of golden haired vets from Kingslanding; Jamie, Brienne and the half man Tyrion. Also amongst the crowd is the honey warmed brown of the florist he saved from the clutches of that little shit stain, who insisted on gifting her expertise along with her brother and brother-in-law who run the plant nursery in the nearby town. The Godswood, and the marquee back at the house rivals Casterly rocks gardens for all the splendour they have fill them with. Sansa’s tinkling laughter fills his ears from this morning as they stood in the white space, where they will return and celebrate later on.

He’d be buggered to spend a single night from his little bird, traditions be damned. Luckily she didn’t want it either so they spent the night curled in each others arms, long kisses full of sweetness, with fingers dragging lazily along their silk sheened skin. Sandor can almost feel the tightness of his little bird’s belly, baring a hint of a curve now. The icing on his cake was the hospital appointment two days prior to their wedding and seeing the flutter of their babe’s heartbeat in the grainy fuzziness of the ultrasound screen. So many none dreams are being realised for him today he thinks, a hard lump filling his throat.

Suddenly a hush falls from the rows of guests as light tinkling harp music fills the grove they are in. Briefly he looks down at Stranger who’s sat up board straight and proud, black triangular ears erect as he studiously gazes along the hessian brown aisle lined with lanterns and white and lavender roses.

His little bird is here.

*

“It’s not too late sis, we can make a getaway in the Spyder if you want.” Arya mock seriously whispers in Sansa’s ear.

“Oh hush you.” Sansa snips as she concentrates on getting the flick of her eyeliner just right in the mirror of hers and Sandor’s bathroom. Her red hair is curled into a glowing cascade of coppery fire that is now secured in a half up half down French twist with lily of the valley flowers entwined in the centre and a few strands framing her heart shaped face. Her Tully blue eyes sparkle with mirth at Arya’s retort of ‘it’s a shame, I really want to take it for a spin.’

“I’m sure he’ll let you, just wait until after the wedding, alright?”

“Oh, alright then.” Arya replies with a dramatic sigh.

Straightening up from her lean on the vanity in the bathroom, Sansa appraises her self in the mirror. She is wrapped in a creamy soft robe with silver stitching of ‘Soon to be Mrs. Clegane’ embroidered onto the back, a gift from Dany. Beneath the robe she is wearing her new and expensive cream lingerie; a balconette bra with hints of lace and Swarovski elements and matching briefs – Arya howled with laughter at the sight of her ‘granny knickers’ which stopped short when Sansa flipped them round to show her the sheer back of them. Her make up is on and perfect, her hair is all coiffed and ready, nails are painted in a simple French manicure. She gives a happy nod to herself in the mirror before exiting and padding onto the plush carpet in their bedroom. Her dress hangs on the wardrobe door, swiftly brought out of hiding when Sandor left for the Godswood in the gardens where he proposed six months ago.

She can’t believe where that time has gone, Sandor was all for getting married in the town hall after she had said yes but she managed to stall him for a few months, although they won’t have much of a honeymoon period before their babe arrives in six moon turns, she is full of serenity and anticipation of what their life will be together.

Arya, grey eyes sparking below fine black brows, her short hair is curled simply and pinned back out of her face has a single winter rose pinned into her hair has already changed into her outfit snaps her out of her reverie.

“C’mon stupid, we need to get you dressed or we will be more than fashionably late and give Sandor a heart attack.”

She comments handing Sansa the sapphire earrings, Sandor bought her for Sevenmas. She pins them in her ears and runs through the list in her head; Well these are my something blue, my dress and underwear are my something new, my old is the diamond and sapphire bracelet that belonged to my mother, a gift from her father on the birth of their firstborn and her elder brother, Robb. Tears threaten to fall at so many family members cannot be here on her most special of days.

“Hey, hey! No tears, you can’t smudge your make up and you’re not wearing your something borrowed yet.”

Arya’s voice cuts through her heartache like a needle, shaking her from her sadness.

She focuses on the scrap of fabric held out in her little sisters hands, carefully she picks it up and finds that the flimsy gauze like material stitched with blue flowers is, in fact a garter.

“I wore this when I got married to Gendry, thought I’d bring it as a something borrowed if you haven’t already got something? She murmurs.

Sansa imagines the fabric wrapped around her little sisters thigh and before she can process her thoughts she blurts out.

“As long as Gendry didn’t remove it with his teeth, I don’t think Sandor would think kindly of me wearing some of Gendry’s DNA – especially near my woman’s place!”

“Sansa!” her sister screeches in horror.

“Arya!” Sansa screeches back before collapsing into giggles, leaning forwards and gripping her sides.

“C’mon, you stupid. Lets get you into that dress. Ugh.”

Arya directs with a condescending eye roll.

Shrugging out of her robe she hands it on the bedroom door before turning and slipping into the little ivory number. Dress shopping didn’t take long but she was surprised that the princess ball gown she thought she would have and the just below the knee floaty organza skirt with a cinched in waist and sweetheart neckline that she fell in love with were polar opposites. She carefully runs her fingers over the delicate lace stitching as Arya draws the zip up her back to rest at the base of her shoulder blades. She then holds her arms out for the reverse bolero which is decorated with more lace detailing like on the dress and gives the impression of a higher neckline, it also has a thick satin band which wraps around the top of the bolero, capping over the shoulders before descending into a v at the back of the dress exposing her shoulder blades. Arya deftly buttons the back of the bolero and stands back to allow Sansa to slip into her royal blue peep toe heels.

Sansa regards herself in the mirror before her, a woman grown, about to pledge her life and love to the man she loves.

Her sister hands her a beautiful bouquet of lavender and cream roses with eucalyptus foliage wrapped around. The stems are tied together with hessian and cream ribbon. Margaery, Loras and Renly have outdone themselves with their attention to detail for hers and Sandor’s special day.

“Ready? Sis?”

Arya interrupts her from her reverie, standing before her and taking her hands.

Sansa smiles and breathes out.

“Ready.”

*

The harp music has been playing for an age and still she isn’t here yet. Sandor tries not to shuffle his feet and keep is head held high as he stares down the empty aisle, the wedding guests alternating between watching him, then looking out for his little bird.

He almost thinks she taken off and left him at the alter when he catches a glimpse of red, white and… blue. Then there she is, a vision before his eyes all smiles and eyes welling up with tears as the little wolf bitch of a sister guides her to him on her arm.

His breath is stolen from him as he takes in her beauty, a short dress with blue heels, and a flash of blue on her wrist and at her ears and all fiery curls around her face. The only time she has been more beautiful to him is when she’s naked as her name day with hair all flyaway from his loving attentions.

Before he knows it, she is before him, in her heels he only has to decline his head minutely to meet her glowing blue eyes. Sandor smiles crookedly at his beautiful little bird.

Lady and Jess have come and sat beside Sansa, a garland of lavender roses and eucalyptus leaves around their necks, their tails wag happily at the five of them being reunited again.

The harp music draws to a close and the Elder Brother steps forward to unite himself and the little bird in marriage. Although Elder Brother follows the faith path of the Seven, he agreed to do a blended service to honour the old gods, Sansa’s parents married before. Clearing his throat, Elder Brother speaks in a clear voice, calling out.

“Who comes before the old gods this day?”

The little she wolf of a sister replies.

“Sansa Stark comes here to be wed, a woman grown with no lawful reason not to be wed; she comes to beg the blessings of the gods.”

“And who comes to claim her?” Elder Brother responds in answer to the she wolf’s response.

Sandor clears his throat and speaks lowly around the knot in his throat.

“Sandor Clegane claims her, a man grown with no lawful reason not to wed her.”

Sansa smiles oh so sweetly at him, he could fall to his knees and weep.

“And who gives her?”

“Arya Stark-Waters who is this woman’s sister.”

The she wolf replies, a tilt to her chin as if to challenge him, to what he does not know. His attention is drawn to Sansa as the elder brother speaks further.

“Sansa Stark, will you take this man to be your lord and husband?”

There is a long pause before she speaks, her voice high and full of wavering emotion.

“I take this man.”

“And Sandor? Do you take this woman to be your lady wife?”

“Aye, I take her.”

His voice low and husky with suppressed tears, he’s never been one for emotion but this day is trying to get the better of him.

You may place the ring on her wedded finger and bring her under your protection.

With a slight tremble he reaches down and unclips the two rings from Stranger’s collar, a cool wet nose snuffles his hand and brown eyes look up at him with a question.

“You did good pal.”

He rumbles lowly to Stranger who sits up straighter and wags his tail with one big thump on the earth. He drops the heavier ring into his little birds upturned palm which she closes tightly before offering out her left hand, all silky smooth. He glides the ring down her finger and gives it a quick smile. The plain Valyrian steel band shines brightly on her finger.

“And Sansa if you can do the same?”

He holds out his hand to her and looks deeply into her blue eyes as she maintains his gaze. Pushing the thick band of matching Valyrian steel down the length of his finger with a slightly more forceful push to get it over his knuckle until it comes to rest on his wedded finger.

“Ah perfect. Now if you can repeat the promise to the Seven…”

Smiling at one another they speak in unison, a harmony of melody and low baritone.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone and Stranger, I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days”

Their fingers are intertwined so tightly with the weight of their vows and wedding rings before them.

Finally Elder Brother speaks once more.

“Ladies and gentleman, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. I can now announce to you good people the new Mr and Mrs Clegane. Sandor, you may now kiss your bride.”

A riot of applause fills the air for such a small congregation with a few wolf whistles from the back as he takes her face within his hands a meets her lips in a long sweet kiss, which she pushes into to deepen. Sandor breaks away before his blood can get well and truly up they turn to face their crowd of well-wishers, grinning so wide despite his scars.

*

The afternoon and evening has flown by in a blur of confetti, cupcakes and alcohol, although the alcohol applies to everybody but herself and Clara who is still nursing. For them there was sparkling grape juice!

Her feet ache from all the dancing, she even managed to get Sandor up a number of times until he backed away to prop up the bar with Bronn, Drogo, Gendry and Davos whilst herself, Arya, Iris, Dany, Jenni and Clara were tearing up the dance floor.

Iris’ husband made a beautiful job of decorating the marquee, her favourite piece being the illuminated LOVE sign lit with fairground warm white lights casting swirls over the room.

The food was simple, yet wholesome. An abundance of lemon cakes which Sansa had been picking at all night whilst the men devoured the pork pie and cheese tower.

Now the night is drawing to a close and the last of the guests have been bungled into taxis, it is just the two of them in the marquee. The only light is the illuminated sign and light cast from the mirror ball in the centre of the room.

Sansa stands barefoot on the dance floor gazing at the sign when smooth warm arms wrap around her body, pulling her in close so her head rests just below his chin. She can feel a soft sigh escape his as she trails her fingers up his forearms, which are now exposed where is has rolled up his sleeves. Turning in his grip so she now faces him she wraps her hands around the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet her lips.

Slowly and languidly they explore each other’s mouths until she feels the heat rise in her cheeks and his hands grip her hips. She breaks away with a smile and a sigh when he follows her lips down feeling the scruff of his beard on her cheek.

“It’s been a good day, hasn’t it Sandor?”

“Aye, I’d say so little bird.”

They spend an age gazing at each other, sapphire blue meeting slate grey. Who would have thought that little over a year ago their paths would cross and bring each other so much joy and happiness where before there was hurt and grief.

Background music softly fills the marquee and Sansa sways a little in his arms, he holds her moves along with her while she hums to the tune. He pushes her hand away from his giving her the space the spin back into his embrace where she trails her hand up the back of his neck, dragging her finger nails along the exposed flesh eliciting a soft growl from her husband.

His lips find hers once more and move passionately against them causing her body temperature to spike to the point she feels she could erupt in flames. He breaks the kiss and with a swift scoop she is in his arms, nestled against her broad chest, which is now divested of suit jacket and tie, his waistcoat handing unbuttoned from his broad frame.

“C’mon wife, we have some marital duties that must be attended to.”

He rasps low in her ear sending a riot of goose bumps up and down her flesh.

Sansa happily nods to him, gaining a lopsided smirk from her husband and right now, in this moment she couldn’t be happier.

“I love you Sandor.”

“Aye, love you to, my Sansa, my little bird, my wife.”

In his arms they are a soft sway back and forth stepping into the house and into the futures of their lives as Mr and Mrs Clegane.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this one shot, please comment! :-)


End file.
